


The Warm Arm

by miss_nettles_wife



Category: Sofia the First (Cartoon)
Genre: Burns, Hurt/Comfort, Slavery, Starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 07:55:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1543337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_nettles_wife/pseuds/miss_nettles_wife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is carried to a carriage and put on a seat, he slides off onto the ground. The warm arms lift him up again, and puts him on the seat. He remains this time. He doesn’t have the energy to fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Warm Arm

**Author's Note:**

> A cliched slavery au b/c i suck that's why.   
> I'm going to put all of My Sofia the First fanfics on here haha

Cedric falls to his knees and crawls along, he doesn’t strive to be hurt today. He wouldn’t survive if he was hurt today, he stops when they stop at the front of the stall, his knees rest on the hot bricks, his flesh feels as though it is melting. He is nearly naked, like the others, and he lets the sun warm his face, but the warmth is short lived. He soon started to burn, his nose going red, the skin would peel, and he would be beaten. He may have thought it unfair, in a previous life, but now, in this life, right here, right now, he couldn’t find It in himself to move or to care. He just had to please the handlers in the moment. Please them now, escape the pain later. It was a simple enough equation. One he had the impossible answer to. 

The feet that pass his stall mostly belong to richer people, or nobles, even. He had heard that the king was coming to buy new slaves today. The only king he could even start to recall had cared well for his slaves, and he wished to be among them. But the king would not take such a weak slave, surely. The day passes and no feet stop and consider him. The slaves on his left and his right are taken, but he remains. “Maybe tomorrow.” The owner says, pulling the remaining slaves into the tent, and going to browse for new ones. Cedric falls onto the hard ground and takes his piece of canvas quickly. Many slaves would go without. Cedric would not, not tonight. Until he sees a teenage girl with reddy brown hair, and she reminds him of a girl he used to know. She is curled tightly crying and shivering. Cedric places the piece of sack over her, and moves to a corner, where he may try and curl with the others, but they push him away. He is cold for the whole night. When he wakes up, the girl is gone, and a young man lies in her place. Cedric crawls out onto the bricks again, and he waits for the people to come. And today, someone does.

A pair of feet stop in front of him, two pairs, even, and crouch down in a way that is most unusual for people of higher status to meet with someone of lower status. The man opens Cedric’s mouth and checks his teeth. He tests Cedric’s arm, pulling it until he is sure it will pop out of it’s socket, and he pulls Cedric’s hair. He stands, and nods at the second person, who leaves to go pay for Cedric. Cedric is lifted and taken to a cart, where he is secured by his collar. Several other slaves are brought, and he is taken to a castle. A king, he thinks, safety, warmth, but he does not get that. He is taken to a dungeon. He is secured by his arms to a wall, and the beatings begin.

It must be hours he things, floating on a cloud

The pain is long lasting, even after the beating ends. He assumes food or perhaps a blanket will come ,but they don’t. He is left alone for the night. He lays still and silent, trying not to anger his open wounds, or the pain in his joints. Another day passes and still no one comes for him. It is another day still when he thinks he may die from hunger. A man comes in and he had a couple of things. A pack of cigars, and a plate of food. Cedric is given the food . He eats it as fast as he can and feels like he may be sick after. The man pays no mind, and secures his mouth open with sticks and a head brace. Cedric is pulled up the stairs and taken to a room with multiple people. He Is secured in a bridge position with a block under his back to stop him falling down. He serves as an ash tray. 

The people mill around the room and when one of them needs to ash or extinguish their expensive cigar or cigarette, then they do so onto him. He supposes that it’s better than if he were serving as a candle, but after a while his whole body aches. He is covered in burns by the time the evening ends, but he isn’t taken back to his cell, he is taken to a bedroom. He is draped on the bed, and he shuts his eyes. He expects someone to lean over him and pull his legs open but he is shocked when what comes down is a hard hit. The pain keeps going as whomever is in the room with him continues to beat him, and hit him and hurt him. He is kicked and knocked off the bed and kicked some more. He vomits, and then his attackers rolls him over into it. He cries and tries to keep his mouth shut. The beating stops a while later, and the person has a drink. Cedric doesn’t get any. He cries again. He is dumped back in his cell and rinsed with an icy cold blast of water. The vomit and blood is washed off, and trickles down the drain. He cries again, he is cold and miserable.

He wakes up with a cough from being in the damp cell. He feels ill, but no one bothers him for most of the day. In fact, he is left alone for most of the week. By then, all he can think about his food, and about not being ill. He is so tired, so tired, and so hungry. He’d been given water every so often by the guard from his personal water bottle. He fantasizes about killing the guard and eating him raw. He is wasting away. Then the door opens and the weakened Cedric who hasn’t moved in six hours struggles to life his head. A pair of warm arms lift him and he does his best to act like he’s not pressing himself against them. 

He is carried to a carriage and put on a seat, he slides off onto the ground. The warm arms lift him up again, and puts him on the seat. He remains this time. He doesn’t have the energy to fight. The chair is soft anyway. Then he feels something soft pressed into his hands. He doesn’t have the strength to find out what it is. There is a murmur from the warm arms, and what was in his hands was removed, and he thinks he would like some water. 

Then the warm hand’s warm fingers gently open his lips and his teeth, and place the soft thing in his mouth. It is bread, he thinks, as the hand moves from his mouth. He manages to chew it slightly, and swallow it. He feels ill, but ignores it. He would like some more bread, he thinks, as the hands move away. He feels a metal rip placed at his lips. The warm hands gently move his mouth so it opens, and allowt he cup rim past his teeth. He drinks the water, and manages two mouthfuls before the cup is moved away from him. “You can’t have any more for a little.” The warm arms say, gently placing a blanket around his shoulders, “I know you are hungry but right now you will ill if you have more.” They say. Cedric groans softly, but he doesn’t complain. The trip is short, and as they come down, he feels like he could sleep a million years. The warm arms pick him up, and carry him into the home.

He is put down on a bed, and he is about to fall asleep but the warm arms promise him more food, so Cedric does his best to stay awake as he is stripped of his clothes and gently placed in a tub of warm water. The first warm water he’d felt in years. It seeps into his pores and he melts into it. He is bathed by the warm arms, his wounds cleaned and his body now creamy white rather than grey with cold and sickness. He is carried back to the bed, where he is dried and cleaned and he murmurs with reserves of strength gained from the bath for food. The warm arms deliver, and he gets half a bowl of broth, which is fed with a spoon, and he drinks well. After a week of lying in his own filth and starving, he feels like a king. He briefly ponders the identity of the warm arms, but cannot think for long before he goes to sleep, the warm arms watching him diligently.

Cedric sleeps soundly, in the way you sleep when you are truly tired, and when he awakens, he hears two voices talking. They hush when he wakes up, and the warm arms are quickly helping him sit and offering him some water. He drinks two mouthfuls before the cup is removed and he lays back down. He wants to ask for food but he knows better. There is a soon on his mouth, and the warm arms help him to drink. To open his mouth and to place the broth on his tounge. The colour is returning to Cedric’s cheeks and he’s starting to feel better. The warm arms fuss over his pointy ribs and creaky spine. The lift him up, and dress him in familiar clothes. They take him back to bed, and he feels to hot for the blanket but he says nothing else. The blanket is warm, but he is hot. A cool cloth is placed on his forehead, and the warm arms smooth his hair out of his face. He slowly finds himself able to think properly. To think of how a slave should act, and how will he be treated when he is healed. The warm arms help him lie down again, and remove the thick blanket, leaving the thin one. He feels better, with it. He falls into a sleep and sleeps for the better part of the next two days.

He waked up about two days later and finds the warm arms are not waiting for him when he wakes up. He’s frightened, and starting to breathe heavily. He doesn’t want to start, he wants the warm arms around him, but the door to the room opens and a familiar figure, so familiar, presses him down gently onto the bed and calms him. He finds himself calmer when the warm arms gently press a cup to his lips, and let him drink. Then, they lift Cedric to another warm bath, and undress him, and remove his bandages before placing his limp body in the water. They wash Cedric’s hair, and clean his wounds and fuss again about his lack of muscle and fat. He is dried carefully, and a smaller pair of hands help him put on clean bandages. He is redressed, and placed under the sheet. The warm arms then help him have some more soup and a piece of bread. He feels that soon he might actually be able to care for himself. The warm arms stay with him as he falls asleep.

The next time he is awake, he wants to stand. He drinks the water offered, and tries to pull back the sheets and stand. The warm arms push him back down, “No, Cedric, not yet, please…” But he ignores them and tries to stand, but he cannot, and he lies down sadly. The warm arms gently stroke his hair, “It’s alright.” He murmurs, “Soon, Cedric, just not now. “ They say, carefully smoothing his hair. Cedric shuts his eyes but he doesn’t want to sleep. He rests, but when he hears the warm arms leave, he tries to stand. He stands for a few minutes, but doesn’t have it in him to actually move, and falls. And he hits the ground with a thud. He can’t call out. He wishes he wasn’t so weak. He lies there for a long time, until the door opens. There is a bowl hastily set down, and Cedric is lifted onto the bed. The warm arms apologize again and again. Cedric just closes his eyes. The warm hands leave. They come back with the bowl of something new to eat, something a bit heavier. He tries the new soup, and Cedric manages to open his mouth and drink some of it alone. The warm arms stay with him. 

The following time Cedric wakes up could be a few days or a few hours later, the warm arms a still there. He shuffled into a sitting position, and sips some water. He glances over at the sleeping person, and studies their face. Broad jaw, brown-y orange hair, peaches and cream skin, he’s so familiar, Cedric thinks, lying back down. He rests until the sun comes though a window he hadn’t noticed before. He turns to face it, and smiled slightly. When the warm arms wakes up, he offers Cedric water, and goes to get him some food. He returns with the same soup as the day before, which now has small piece of meat and vegetable in it. He managed to chew them, and swallow, and eat some of the food. He felt much better, but didn’t try and get up. The man strokes his hair and tells him about the kingdom. He learns that they are in Enchansia, “I come from here…” he said softly, as the warm arms continue to ensure his comfort and safety. The warm arms smile,

“That’s right.” He says. Cedric nods, weakly, and lays back on the pillows, and he slowly falls asleep.

 

After a week of this treatment, Cedric is on his feet again, and he’s happy about it. Finally, he can serve his master rather than the other way around. When his master leaves to do his job, he is left alone with no jobs. Confused, he wanders around the place, still slightly sleepy until he comes to a throne. He kneels, and he waits there for a long time, until the warm arms lift him up, “Cedric, what are you doing?” He asks, picking the man up, “I left you some books to read, why are you in here?” He asks, lifting Cedric into his arms, and back to his room. He hadn’t noticed them. He’d disobeyed. He was going to be punished. The warm arms lay him on his bed, and strokes hair from his place. He sets the books on the bedside and sighs. “Well it’s time to change your bandages anyway.” He says, standing and going to get them. He returned and carefully fixed Cedric up, and handed him a book. Cedric took it, and smiled limply. “What am I to call you?” He asked the warm arms, who paused, and said 

“Roland.”


End file.
